


Under the Mistletoe

by koto



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Getting Together, Kissing, M/M, Mistletoe, stupid plans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:27:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28291608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koto/pseuds/koto
Summary: The plan is this: hang the piece of mistletoe, shriek like his life depends on it, pretend there’s a spider, wait for Minho to come save him, and when they’re both stood in this very doorway use some kind of move (maybe a bat of the eyelashes or the gentle touch of his hand to Minho’s well-defined chest) to encourage tradition and get a kiss.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 31
Kudos: 346
Collections: Minsung





	Under the Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FutureLikeJicasso](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FutureLikeJicasso/gifts).



> Merry Christmas!
> 
> I couldn't sleep and wanted to craft my good friend futurelikejicasso a minsung present, so please accept this sloppy little thing crafted in a few hours! Cue: generic mistletoe fic!
> 
> p.s. I do have a longer fic coming, should be up in like a week, but this is what I have io offer in the mean time!  
> Find me on twitter @0hrhj0  
> Ask my questions on curiouscat @koto16

Jisung… isn’t the tallest.

It’s a little bit painful, but even he can admit it. That’s what makes his current task so difficult, made him have to go out to the hardware store and invest in a stepstool to reach the top of his doorframe and set his plan into action. The apartment he shares with his roommate Minho is lovely; historic and well-maintained with great natural light, hardwood flooring, high ceilings and tall doorways. It’s stunning, really, and he’s enjoyed every minute of the several months he’s been here. But those tall doorways sure do make it hard to hang a piece of mistletoe.

He’s lived with Minho for months, but Jisung could have told anyone within a day and a half that there was something about his roommate that looked awfully kissable. He did, actually, but Chan didn’t seem to want to hear it. Something about not wanting his oldest friend and his coworker to hook up. But really, as his oldest friend, he should have known Minho was exactly Jisung’s type and there was no way the thought of kissing him wouldn’t take root in his mind and grow into something so big and green it couldn’t be ignored. A mistletoe plant, perhaps?

And Jisung _thinks_ , is roughly eighty percent sure, that Minho wants to kiss him too. Living with him feels like being thrust into some kind of corny romance novel; one with stolen glances and subtle brushes of their hands and unspoken acts of kindness (mostly from Minho) that make him feel like a lady courted. They hit it off right away, and Minho is single, and Jisung is single, and Jisung likes Minho, so what’s stopping them? Why shouldn’t they just date?

Jisung really thinks they should just date.

The plan is this: hang the piece of mistletoe, shriek like his life depends on it, pretend there’s a spider, wait for Minho to come save him, and when they’re both stood in this very doorway use some kind of move (maybe a bat of the eyelashes or the gentle touch of his hand to Minho’s well-defined chest) to encourage tradition and get a kiss. The details aren’t hammered out, but it’s 3 pm on Christmas Day, he’d spent half the morning driving around town trying to find a store that was open to get a stepstool (he doesn’t trust standing on chairs, not since he’d tried it with an office chair in junior high and sprained his ankle from the fall) and actually put his plan into action. But he has it now and here he stands, fastening the mistletoe to his doorframe with double-sided tape the employee swore wouldn’t damage vintage wood, before stepping down and into his room to admire the handywork. It looks good. 

It looks like the start of something new. 

Jisung carefully folds the stool up and tucks it into the corner of his room, then places the tape on his bed and clears his throat. He inhales, deep and powerful, before letting out a yell that may be just a tad bit overkill unless he wants to kiss every person in the complex.

“MIINNNHHOOOOOOO!”

“What the hell? What? Jisung?” his roommate calls back, not nearly as concerned as Jisung had hoped for a yell so loud. 

“I need help!” Jisung calls out, trying to sound more panicked this time.

“Help? Are you ok?” Jisung can hear him stand from his spot at the kitchen table now, the sound of one of their metal chairs scraping against hardwood floor a telltale sign that he’s headed over. 

“Yeah! I mean, no! There’s… there’s a spider! I need help!”

“Since when are you scared of spiders?” he calls from the kitchen, though Jisung can still hear him shuffling things around. 

“It’s really big! Come on, please just come help!” Jisung calls. God, why is Minho so reasonable? It’s one of the things Jisung likes most about him, the way he can always keep Jisung calm but still be able to goof around. That and his face and his lips and his laugh and his hair and his thighs (oh god, he has really great thighs). But right now it’s annoying, because he’d really like Minho to just run in like prince charming, kill the invisible spider, and kiss him absolutely silly.

“Ok, what?” Minho asks, finally making his appearance in front of Jisung’s door. He still has on Christmas pajamas, silk ones with little candy canes all over the pants and a single embroidered one on the pocket of the shirt. Very sophisticated, as far as those things go. Not to mention the shirt is unbuttoned until midway down his chest, giving Jisung a delightful show he would have never thought to ask for. “Hello? There’s a spider?”

Jisung shakes himself out of his daze and looks at Minho’s hands, or specifically the tools within them. “Why do you have a mason jar? Were you going to catch it?”

“Yeah, I was gonna catch it and release it. I don’t want spider blood on my hands,” Minho says, holding up the piece of printer paper he has in the other one. “Shouldn’t be too hard. I’ll just slip him in with this.”

“Are you going to keep it?”

“No, I’m gonna let it outside.”

“Minho,” Jisung whines, “It’s below freezing outside, it’s going to die. Can’t you just smush it?”

“I’m not having a spider death directly on my hands. Where is it?” Minho asks. Jisung inhales, hopefully discreetly, and readies himself for his next step. The big leap. 

“Um, I think I saw it up there,” he says quietly, pulling Minho’s sleeve to bring him into the doorway and pointing up. Minho looks up and squints before a little smile creeps onto his face, signalling that he’s probably caught on to what Jisung wants.   
  


“I don’t see any spider,” he says, shifting closer to Jisung so they’re practically chest to chest. They would be, if it weren’t for Jisung’s previously discussed lack of vertical aptitude.

“There’s something up there,” Jisung says, tugging on the elbow of his sleeve. Minho has a big smirk on his face now, and Jisung gets the distinct feeling he may be getting teased.

“Yeah, but I don’t see a spider,” he says thoughtfully. “Maybe it crawled into the wall?”

“Minho-”

“Or is it hiding in the mistletoe?” he ponders, smiling and finally looking back down when Jisung freezes.

“I- I don’t know,” Jisung says quietly, trying his best to maintain eye contact as Minho stares him down. He had this whole plan in place, was going to be so charming that Minho couldn’t resist just leaning in and planting one on him. But in his daydreaming perhaps he forgot who Minho was and why he liked him so damn much; someone who played back perfectly with his antics, who liked to tease maybe more than Jisung himself. “It might be.”

“Well, should I just take it down and check?” Minho asks, dropping the printer paper from his left hand and reaching up to grab it before Jisung yanks his arm down and pins it to his side. 

“No! Minho, come on,” Jisung says through gritted teeth.

“I’m trying to help,” Minho says with an innocent tone, though his face is anything but.

“It’s a mistletoe.”

“It is a mistletoe,” Minho confirms. “So should I just forget the spider?”

“Oh my god. Yeah, forget the spider, come on,” Jisung whines.

“Ok, forgotten. Now what?” he asks, leaning over as much as he can to place the jar down while Jisung maintains his grip on Minho’s elbow.

“Do you need me to say it?”

“Yes,” Minho trills, smiling and leaning into Jisung’s body. He backs up instinctually, though there’s not really anywhere to go, and within a moment he goes from having control to having his spine pressed against the frame of the door and Minho’s right arm caging him in. “What would you like?”

“It’s a mistletoe,” Jisung repeats. They’re both starting to sound like broken records. “So, there’s a tradition with mistletoes. So do that.”

“You want me to kiss you?” Minho asks softly, leaning in closer to Jisung’s face. For all the teasing he’d been doing before, his face softens as soon as the word leaves his mouth, and Jisung can feel the shakiness in his breath as he sheds his cocky persona and becomes vulnerable. “Really?”

“Really, really, really want you to kiss me,” Jisung confirms, nodding just enough that Minho can feel it without them bumping into each other. “Please. It’s tradition.”

“Can’t break tradition on Christmas day,” Minho agrees, leaning in even further. Their lips are basically touching now, not a centimeter of space between them, but Minho pauses for a bit before pressing in. It’s long enough that Jisung feels the need to say something, might have even backed out of the situation and second-guessed himself if Minho wasn’t holding him in. He starts to open his mouth, tell Minho it was a joke and apologize for pushing it too far, say _anything_ to regain whatever friendship they had left and not have to move out from sheer mortification, but he doesn’t get to. Because in that moment Minho’s lips are pressing onto his, soft and gentle and sweet with the taste of maple syrup from the pancakes they’d had from brunch. 

It’s good, so good, better than anything Jisung could have imagined from the night he moved into the apartment to the many months of evenings spent laying in bed fantasizing this moment. Jisung nearly whimpers when he feels Minho pulling away, desperate to keep this going for a little longer with all the work he’d put into it. “Like that?” Minho asks, forehead pressing to Jisung’s own. 

“That- yeah, like that. But also, I think more,” Jisung says breathily, pressing another soft kiss to Minho’s lips. 

“More?”

“More,” Jisung confirms, wrapping his arms around Minho’s neck as the kiss is reignited. It’s deeper this time, more power coming from both sides as their lips move in tandem and Minho’s tongue sweeps across Jisung’s bottom lip, looking for permission. Jisung grants it, cutting off any chance of them being able to play this off as a holiday joke as it turns into an honest-to-god makeout session. He nearly pushes off the doorframe, tries to guide Minho into his room and onto his bed and make the most of the moment, but he refrains. This started with a mistletoe and it’s working out well, who is he to remove this moment from the sanctity of his doorway and the watchful eye of the plant above?

It does slow down eventually, if only for a moment when Minho pulls back and stands on his toes in the doorframe, uncaging Jisung and stretching his arm up as far as it goes. 

“What the hell? Dumbass old apartment, I can’t reach shit in here,” Minho says impatiently, scowling when Jisung laughs at his struggle. Minho really isn’t all that tall, either. “What are you laughing at?”

“What are you doing?” Jisung asks.

“I’m trying to pull this mistletoe down,” Minho says, jumping and reaching the top of the doorframe on the exact part he doesn’t need.

“Why?”   
  


“Because, I don’t know if this is some Christmas miracle or I’m only allowed to kiss you under the mistletoe or what, but I want more. If I carry it around I can kiss you whenever you want, right?” Minho asks, seemingly satisfied with his own logic. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you like that for months, if I need this plant to do it I’ll carry it around until it’s rotten.” 

“What if I told you,” Jisung says quietly, pulling Minho out of the doorway and into his room before squatting on his bed, “that you don’t need the mistletoe?” It’s hard not to laugh at his roommate, not because his words are stupid, but because they’re so damn endearing, and Jisung is giddy off Christmas spirit and the kisses of a beautiful boy. “Would you stop jumping like a maniac and come kiss me again?”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Well, if that’s what you want for Christmas…”

* * *

And if Minho pulls that Mistletoe down and carries it in his pocket for the next three days as an excuse to kiss Jisung across every surface of their apartment, well, that’s all in the sake of the holiday spirit. 

And when it dries and they press it into a book, preparing to mount it to a picture frame and hang by their front door, and Jisung finally stutters out a nervous confession, Minho sets it to the side and kisses him silly once again. 

“You don’t… we don’t have the mistletoe, is that ok?”

“I liked you long before the mistletoe, I’ll like you long after. But if you want, next year we can hang them in every doorframe of this place. It’ll be tradition, ok?”

“Ok.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> :)


End file.
